The Blue Room
by SFGrl
Summary: Chandler finds a way to help Monica in a most unusual way... {complete}
1. The Blue Room

~The Blue Room~  
  
*Chapter I*  
  
It all happened in a flash. There was no long wait, no bright light, no lifelong slideshow. He blinked, and everything stopped. The chaos in the streets, the bitterness of the winter wind, the long list of things-to-do that ran through his head. Suddenly, quietly, without fanfare, there was nothing.  
  
When he opened his eyes from the split-second blink, he found himself sitting in a room. The room was not large, but it wasn't small either. The walls were a soft, powder blue. There were no photos on the walls, no windows, no doors. There was nothing extraordinary about the room at all. In fact, the plain-ness of the room was it's distinctiveness. He sat on a soft, cream-coloured sofa. He felt no anxiety, no impatience. He felt no fear, he felt no euphoria. He felt...nothing. And yet this nothingness did not disturb him in the slightest. He simply sat on the sofa, staring at the light blue wall. He sat for perhaps minutes, perhaps days. He really had no concept of the passage of time. Then, without warning, yet without any type of disturbance, a woman appeared. She sat down next to him, and looked at him. He turned to look at her, to take her in.  
The lines on her face indicated wisdom, but not age. Her eyes were soft yet strong, and were the colour of dark chocolate. He had never seen this woman before, yet he trusted her unconditionally. After a short period of time had passed, she spoke.  
  
"Chandler Muriel Bing."  
  
Chandler nodded in acknowledgement, but said nothing.  
  
"Your body, it's quite young. Thirty Four. Yet your soul is quite old."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Do you know where you are?"  
  
"Yes," Chandler said truthfully. But in fact, it had just dawned on him, moments earlier.  
  
"Do you know how it happened?"  
  
"No. Not yet."  
  
The woman nodded, and turned to look at the plain blue wall. Chandler followed suit, and the two sat in a comfortable silence for another short period of time. The wall slowly faded away, revealing a chaotic stormy Manhattan night. Like an old projector, the scene flickered before the two viewers, at a slow but steady pace.  
  
In time, Chandler was able to make out the location--Houston Street. It was snowing, and the wind was blowing litter all over the street. A familiar face came into view, seperating itself from the sea of unfamiliarity.   
He watched the man fumble with his cell phone, as he stepped out onto the busy street. He noticed the car, at the very same time the driver noticed him. But it was too late. The car hit the man with full force, sending him through the air. He landed with a deadly thud.   
  
"Wow," Chandler commented dryly.   
  
"Quite a way to go, huh?"  
  
"Hmm."  
  
"You were killed almost instantly."  
  
"What about--?"  
  
"Your friends and family? They were devastated, of course."  
  
"Even--"  
  
"Yes, even your wife. The two of you were estranged at the time of your death, right?"  
  
"You could say that."  
  
"She loved you. She still loves you. Your death was not easy on her. But she is getting by now."  
  
"How long has it been?"  
  
"Four Years."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"She remarried. But he cheated on her. She lives alone, with your daughter. She's lost, because she feels like she's lost the game of love. She's thinking about you tonight. That's why we're here."  
  
"You want me to help her?"  
  
"Yes. Help her remember what it was like to love. To live."  
  
Chandler nodded, and looked back at the wall, which had now faded to a darkened apartment, in another part of the city. It was eerily quiet, save for the muffled sniffling that eminated from the far corner of the room. In a heartbeat, Chandler found himself standing in his ex-wife's apartment, looking down at her as she wept quietly.  
  
"Monica," Chandler whispered, and Monica gasped. She looked up, and scanned the room, but could see no one. Was she imagining things? Maybe she really was going nuts. Shaking her head, she stood up slowly, and wandered to the bathroom. She flipped on the light, and turned on the water. While she waited for the water to warm up, she looked up at her reflection in the mirror. She looked...old. And tired. Sighing heavily, she closed her eyes, and let here mind wander to better times. As she opened her eyes, she looked at her reflection again, and jumped when she saw Chandler standing behind her. She whipped around, but again found that she was alone. Her latest episode frightening her, she rushed toward the phone and dialled her brother's number.  
  
"Ross, it's Monica," she said, her voice shaky and desperate.  
  
"Mon, what's wrong, are you okay?"  
  
"I...I don't know. Look, Ross, I know it's late, but do you think you could come and pick up Melinda? I need...I don't know what I need, but I don't want to scare her."  
  
"Well, you're scaring me, Mon, what's going on?"  
  
"I...I can't explain it. I just need to be alone. Please Ross. Just for tonight."  
  
"Mon, you know I have no problem watching Mel, but are you sure about this?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
*  
  
Ross looked at Monica and Chandler's sleeping five year old, and smiled sadly. She looked so much like both her parents. Ross found it remarkable that Mel had managed to pick up so many of Chandler's personality traits, since she was so young when Chandler was killed. Ross sighed, and picked the little girl up, all the while wondering if any of this had to do with Chandler. He silently reassured his sister, then took Melinda back to his apartment without another word.  
  
Monica closed the door behind Ross, and leaned against the frame, sighing deeply. She was filled with an unusual calmness, as her eyes wandered the darkened room. She wasn't sure before, but now that she was totally alone, she became more convinced that her instinct was correct:  
  
Chandler was there. 


	2. Second Chances

~The Blue Room~  
  
*Chapter II*  
  
Monica scanned the room, wondering exactly what she was supposed to do.  
  
"Chandler?" she called out, trying not to feel totally ridiculous.  
  
The room remained totally silent. Monica took a deep, shaky breath, and walked slowly to the sofa. She sat down, and buried her head in her hands. Maybe she really was going crazy. The phone rang, causing Monica to jump from her spot.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Hi Mon, did I wake you?"  
  
"No, not at all Pheebs. What's up?"  
  
"I was wondering if I could borrow your wok?"  
  
"Sure, you can come by and get it now if you want to."  
  
"Oh, I can get it tomorrow, I don't need it until tomorrow night. I'm cooking sukiyaki for Adam!"  
  
"Really? Um, actually, Pheebs, if you can pick it up tonight...I kinda need your help with something."  
  
"Sure. I'll be there in about twenty minutes."  
  
"Kay."  
  
Monica hung up the phone and sighed. She figured that if anyone could help her out with this, it would be Phoebe. She smiled, as she recalled the strange encounters Phoebe had claimed to have had with the "other world". Monica never actually believed most of them, particularly that incident where Phoebe was convinced that her mother had been reincarnated as a cat. Even now, with this overwhelming feeling that Chandler was in the room, she couldn't quite convince herself that he could actually be there, watching over her. As a matter of fact, the more she thought about it, the more ridiculous the entire idea seemed. By the time Phoebe arrived, Monica had convinced herself that she was simply losing her mind.  
  
*  
  
Phoebe walked into the room, and was immediately taken aback. Chandler's presence was very evident to her. She now knew why Monica had called her. She sat down silently next to her friend, and watched as Monica struggled with her own beliefs. Phoebe wondered how much it would take to get Monica to open her mind.  
  
"Mon? You okay?"  
  
"Hey, Pheebs. Yeah, I'm alright. I'm just...I think I'm losing my mind here."  
  
"I don't think so," Phoebe laughed, and stood up. She walked toward the window, and peered out into the night sky.  
  
"Pheebs, you haven't even heard *why* I am losing my mind."  
  
"I know why. Chandler's here."  
  
Monica felt a chill go up her spine. This couldn't be real.  
  
"Hi Chandler," Pheobe called out into the air. She waited for a second, then turned to Monica, "He says hi."  
  
Monica's eyes grew wide, and she felt a lump form in her throat. After a moment, she looked up at Phoebe, tears lining her eyes.   
  
"That's not funny, Pheebs."  
  
Phoebe ignored Monica's comment, as she listened silently. She looked at Monica and smiled.  
  
"He says you look beautiful. And he says Melinda is lovely. He's kinda sad you sent her off with Ross, but he understands why you did it."  
  
Monica looked at Phoebe, astounded that she knew that Ross had taken Mel for the night. She felt all of the blood drain from her face. After a moment of stunned silence, she sighed and looked at the floor.  
  
"You can hear...him talking?" Monica asked softly.  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Why can't I hear him?"  
  
"Mon," Phoebe sat down next to Monica again, and took her hand, "You have doubts about this, right? You don't really think that he's here. There's no way you'll be able to hear him if you don't believe, with all your heart, that he is with you right now. That he's always been with you."  
  
"I know, I just--this is so hard," Monica sighed.  
  
"Monica, just let go of everything you think you know. All of that science crap that Ross has told you. Listen to your heart."  
  
Monica nodded, and closed her eyes. She wanted to believe, more than anything, that what Phoebe was saying was true. Phoebe giggled, and Monica opened her eyes to glare at her.  
  
"Sorry," Phoebe said quickly, "it wasn't my fault! Chandler's making jokes. You know, I think he's actually funnier now than he ever was when he was here," Phoebe grinned, then walked to the kitchen to make some tea.  
  
Monica shook her head, and laughed. "Leave it to Chandler to make jokes at the most innappropriate times," she said aloud.  
  
"Ah, but that's one of the things you loved about me, babe."  
  
Monica jumped at the sound of Chandler's voice. "Ch-Chandler?"  
  
"You were expecting your grandmother?"  
  
"I--I can hear you!"  
  
"You let go of your doubts," Phoebe said excitedly, as she set down two cups of tea.  
  
"Thanks for your help, Pheebs," Chandler said.  
  
"Phoebe, why can't I see him?"  
  
"Well, mostly because he's dead. It's hard to see them sometimes."  
  
"Oh." Monica found it hard to hide her disappointment.  
  
"Look, I think you guys should be alone. I'm gonna grab that wok and go. Call me if you need anything, okay?"  
  
"Okay. Thanks Pheebs," Monica said to Phoebe's retreating form. She listened as Phoebe fumbled around in the kitchen, then heard her leave quietly. "So, Chandler..."  
  
"I'm here, Mon."  
  
"This is...strange. I don't mean this to sound mean, but why are you here?"  
  
"I'm here to help you."  
  
"Help me? With what?"  
  
"Monica, are you happy?"  
  
"Well, I'm as happy as one can be, I guess," Monica shrugged.  
  
"Mon, you forget how well I know you. Are you happy?"  
  
"No," Monica sighed.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"I...I miss you. And I hate that...that I'm, alone."  
  
"You've got Mel."  
  
"That's not what I mean. I love Mel, and I am very happy that she is a part of my life...but...I need more."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Mon, before I was killed, you and I...we weren't getting along very well, remember?"  
  
"Yeah, I remember," Monica replied bitterly.  
  
"Do you remember *why* we weren't getting along?"  
  
Monica thought for a minute, then came to a disturbing realization. "No. I can't remember why we were having so much trouble Not specifically, anyway. I mean, it wasn't one big Thing, ya know?"  
  
"I know, Mon. If I could live that part of my life over, I would have fought harder for us. I would have made sure that you were always happy. I hate that I died before I got a chance to tell you how much I love you. How much I've always loved you."  
  
"I love you too," Monica whispered.  
  
"You can have that again, Mon. You can have that love. You divorced your last husband because he cheated on you, right?"  
  
"How did you--?"  
  
"C'mon, Mon, I can see everything, remember?  
  
"Right."  
  
"He had no right cheating on you, but there was a larger force at work on your marriage."  
  
"I didn't love him," Monica nodded, knowing exactly what Chandler was talking about.  
  
"It's not that you didn't want to love him, right? The guilt was eating you alive."  
  
"My God, Chandler, are you reading my mind, here?" Monica laughed.  
  
"Mon, I know how much you want happily ever after. I know, because I was supposed to be the one to give it to you. But I failed you. I failed you, and then I left you alone. And I'm sorry, Mon, I am so sorry. I want more than anything to be the one to give you your fairy tale."  
  
Monica sat, huddled on the sofa, shivering and sobbing, as she listened to Chandler. Chandler stood over her, his heart breaking again, because he couldn't do the one thing he wanted to more than anything.  
  
"I'd give anything, and everything, just to be able to hug you right now."  
  
Monica sniffled loudly, and looked up into the room, wishing she could see Chandler, yet knowing exactly the look he had on his face. He was hurting, just like she was. She sat up straight, and took a deep breath.  
  
"Chandler...I'm sorry I was so stubborn about...well, everything."  
  
"And I'm sorry I didn't listen more. You were trying so hard to tell me that we were in trouble, and I refused to see it. Until it was too late."  
  
They were silent for a long, comfortable minute. Chandler watched, as Monica tilted her head, deep in thought.  
  
"What would you do, Mon? If we could do it all over again, what would you change?"  
  
"You mean, where would I start? Like, what point in our relationship would I go back to?"  
  
"Yeah, I suppose."  
  
"I guess...I guess I'd go back to when I was pregnant with Mel. I think that's when we starting losing contact."  
  
"We stopped listening to each other."  
  
"Yeah. If I could do it again, that's where I would start."  
  
"Me too, Mon. Me too."  
  
***  
  
Monica opened her eyes, and immediately knew that something was different. She felt disoriented, and her head hurt. She moved to sit up, but an arm was laying across her slightly swollen belly, weighing her down. She turned her head, and was taken aback when she saw her husband sleeping next to her. She looked down at her stomach again, and figured that she had just had an extraordinarily realistic dream.  
  
Either that, or she and Chandler were getting their second chance.  
  
  
~****~  
  
Sooooo....was it a dream? A second chance? An acid trip? (just kidding). Pls. review!! 


	3. Forever Blue

~The Blue Room~  
  
*Chapter III*  
  
Monica watched her husband sleep for several minutes, as the residual effects of her very realistic dream began to wear off. He looked peaceful when he slept, and Monica found that watching him had a very calming effect on her. Chandler stirred, and instinctively pulled Monica closer to his body. She smiled, and kissed him tenderly on the cheek. As his eyes fluttered open, he looked over at Monica, and a strange look crossed his face. He blinked furiously, and sat up, his head spinning.  
  
"Morning, sweetie," Monica said as casually as she could. But inside, she was shaking like a leaf. The look that had crossed Chandler's face told her that her first instincts may have been correct--perhaps it hadn't been a dream after all.  
  
"Hey hon," Chandler mumbled absently.  
  
"You okay?"  
  
"Yeah, I just----I had the weirdest dream."  
  
***  
  
"So, do you think that this really is our second chance?"  
  
"I...I don't know, Mon. I suppose...what day is it?"  
  
"It's Sunday....August 26...2001," Monica said, looking at the date on her watch.  
  
"So, you're six months pregnant. Mel was born November 21, and...."  
  
"You were killed December 18," Monica finished quietly.  
  
"Maybe...maybe it won't be like that. Maybe this is a new chance, and----"  
  
"Maybe." But inside, Monica couldn't help but become consumed with a foreboding feeling that fate was in complete control----and that Chandler was not meant to live to see Christmas.  
  
***  
  
~September 16, 2001~  
  
"Mmmm....I could lay here all day," Monica groaned, as the early morning sun began to fill her and Chandler's bedroom.  
  
"Maybe we should....just lay here all day," Chandler smiled.  
  
"I can't. I promised Rachel we'd go baby shopping today, and I've got to--- -" Monica stopped suddenly, and looked at Chandler strangely.  
  
"What?" Chandler asked, confused.  
  
"You know, maybe...maybe I should stay home today."  
  
"Wh--why, are you okay? Do you feel sick?" Chandler suddenly became panicked.  
  
"No, no, it's nothing....I just...I just want to be with you," Monica smiled, trying unsuccessfully to mask her true feelings.  
  
Chandler caught on, and sat up, his eyes falling to the blanket that still covered his legs. "Monica...you can't let....this bother you. It's only September. We still have a lot of living to do," Chandler smiled sadly. "Don't mourn for something that hasn't even happened yet."  
  
"I just....sometimes, I forget about it completely, but....but when I remember it...it scares me."  
  
"Monica, listen to me, okay?" Chandler turned, and took Monica's face in his hands. "We were given another chance here. And no matter how it turns out----we have much more than most. This is a gift. We should celebrate it, not bemoan it."  
  
Monica smiled. Chandler was right. They had a lot of living to do.  
  
*  
  
Over the next several weeks, the images and memories of the past faded completely, and by the time Monica went into labor, Chandler's "death" was all but forgotten. The birth of their daughter brought Monica and Chandler closer than they ever thought possible, and in the days following Melinda's arrival, her proud parents would stay up all night long, talking, or watching their baby sleep soundly.  
  
Their lives no longer revolved around each other; they revolved around the daughter that they had created. But this time, the shift in their relationship brought them closer together, rather than ripping them apart.  
  
Chandler would spend his days at work, thinking about his family, and trying to come up with ways to bring more happiness into his wife and daughter's world. Sometimes it was a small toy for Mel, or flowers for Monica. Other times, it was a simple gesture, like coming home early, and taking Mel for a walk, so that Monica could have the apartment to herself for a couple of hours. He enjoyed doing all of these things, and was blissfully unaware of the fact that there were greater forces at work----he was still on a mission, after all---he just didn't know it.  
  
Monica found herself falling more in live with Chandler than she ever thought possible. She could not imagine her life without him, and at the moment, she had no reason to believe that he wouldn't be there.  
  
"Hey, sweetie," Chandler walked into the apartment, a full hour before he was meant to be off work.  
  
"Hey," Monica smiled, as she walked into the living room.  
  
"You look fantastic," Chandler grinned, and pulled two-dozen red roses, accented with lavender, from behind his back, "Happy anniversary."  
  
"Oh, they're gorgeous! Thank you!! But, um, we got married in May, honey. It's December."  
  
"I know. Today is the anniversary of the day, uh...I realized I wanted to spend my life with you," Chandler blushed slightly.  
  
Monica giggled, and kissed Chandler on the nose, "Is that why you insisted that Joey watch Mel tonight?"  
  
"Well, I wanted tonight to be special," Chandler grinned.  
  
"I love you, you know that," Monica wrapped her arms lazily around Chandler's neck.  
  
"I love you too. I always will, too, you know that?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Here. I have a gift for you," Chandler reached into his pocket.  
  
"Chandler! You've done more than enough!" Monica smiled.  
  
"Well, consider this an early Christmas gift, then----or a late Hanukkah one," Chandler laughed.  
  
Monica shook her head, and pulled the top off of the small box. Inside, was an antique, platinum broach, with a large sapphire sitting in the center. Monica pulled the broach out of the box, and watched in awe, as the sapphire shimmered in the early evening light.  
  
"Chandler, it's beautiful," Monica whispered.  
  
"It was like I was drawn to it. It was calling your name," Chandler smiled.  
  
"Thank you, baby," Monica grinned, and kissed Chandler passionately.  
  
"Mmmm, uh, we'd better go to dinner before this gets out of control," Chandler smiled, and peeled Monica off of him, grabbed the keys to Monica's Porsche, and held out his wife's coat for her. She groaned in protest, and slipped into her coat, before following Chandler out the door.  
  
***  
  
"I still say the waiter was hitting on you," Chandler smiled playfully, as he pulled out of the parking garage, and headed toward home.  
  
"You are so paranoid!" Monica slapped Chandler's arm.  
  
"Hey, you happen to be gorgeous, okay? It's hard not to notice the glares I get from jealous guys."  
  
"Well, you are the only man I will ever truly love," Monica said softly.  
  
"Forever?" Chandler grinned.  
  
"Forever," Monica laughed, then looked out at the road that lay ahead, "Chandler, look out!"  
  
***  
  
When he opened his eyes, he was startled by the silence that engulfed him. He felt no pain, he felt no anxiety..he felt nothing at all. The blue room that surrounded him suddenly seemed eerily familiar, and everything that had happened to him came flooding back into his memory, and, for a fleeting moment, he felt the pain and emptiness of loss. The woman who had appeared to him previously silently entered the room, and motioned toward the blank blue wall. As before, the wall faded into a projection: this time, it was a large home, in an affluent section of Connecticut. The home was warm and inviting, and was filled with people. It took him a moment to find familiar faces---all of the faces seemed familiar, but Chandler could not figure out why. Then, as though someone were whispering the answers into his ear, the names and faces came to him: his daughter, Melinda, now fully grown, and with two children of her own; Joey, barely able to move, slowed by age, and what appeared to be four daughters and twelve grandchildren; Melinda's two half-brothers, Jonathan and Kevin, both married with children as well; Rachel, now widowed, and accompanied by Ben and Belle, and their spouses, children, and a grandchild-Rachel's great-granddaughter.  
  
On a bed, in the master bedroom, was Monica. Her second husband, Chris, was sitting by her side, watching as her breathing became increasingly ragged and shallow. In her thin, shaky hand, she held the sapphire broach that she had worn every day of her life. Taking one final, shaky breath, she said goodbye to the life that she had lived to her fullest, and to the man she had loved unconditionally, but not eternally. Chris nodded his acceptance, as his wife silently, and painlessly faded away.  
  
***  
  
She was next to him in an instant, and he found himself smiling, in spite of himself. He took her hand, as she scanned the blue room, and tried to gain her bearings. He looked at her, and saw the woman he had left behind fifty earth years ago. She smiled, and knew that this was the moment she had lived and died for.  
  
And they would be together forever.  
  
~A~ 


End file.
